Sideways Glances
by Jade4813
Summary: Iris never thought about Barry that way...until a conversation at work made her start thinking about him in a different light.
1. Sideways Glances

**A/N: **My first Flash fic, and I hope you all like it! I'm putting it down for now as "complete" although I may open it up again and change it to ongoing. (I have a couple places I may go with it...or I may write entirely new fics with them.) I hope you all enjoy and I look forward to the feedback!

**Sideways Glances**

"Aw, man, I gotta run. I was supposed to meet your dad…five minutes ago." Barry's sentence faded into a mumble as he shot a quick glance at his watch and winced at the time.

"Wait!" Iris blurted, darting behind the counter as he turned to go. Moving as quickly as she could, she poured a to-go cup three quarters of the way full with black coffee and covered it with a lid. Then, almost as an afterthought, she grabbed a blueberry muffin out of the case and thrust both in his direction.

"For dad. The stuff you guys drink at work shouldn't even be called coffee, legally," she explained as she handed over the cup. She saw a slight frown cross his face as he looked down at the muffin and added, "This is for you." Her dad hated blueberries with a passion that was more than a little unreasonable, but Barry loved them. "Lately it seems that you're always hungry!" They had grabbed lunch together on her break from work, but she'd noticed the way his eyes had lingered over the pastries when he'd escorted her back to work and she could tell he was – inexplicably – still hungry.

Barry grinned at her – that smile that was just a touch too wide to be classically handsome but was so infectious, it always made her day just a little brighter. She didn't really notice that their hands lingered over the muffin a little longer than was probably proper. "Thanks," he said softly.

"One of these days, you really are going to tell me how you can stay so skinny when I swear, you eat eight times a day. I think I gained two pounds just touching that thing," she joked, finally relinquishing her gifts and dropping her hands at her sides. She knew she should let him go, but between Eddie, her new "hobby" chasing down the rumors about the Red Streak, and what seemed to be an increased workload for Barry, they didn't get as much time together to hang out as they used to.

He started slowly backing towards the door. At this rate, he'd be at least ten minutes late, and the coffee probably would be the only thing to get him back into her dad's good graces. "Good metabolism, I guess. And, for what it's worth, I think you look great." From most guys, that would probably sound casually dismissive, but Barry was so sweet, and he sounded so sincere, it was almost impossible to disbelieve him.

She was tempted to fire back a rejoinder, but, remembering he was already late, she waved a hand dismissively at his remark. He was halfway through the door as she called out, "Don't forget, you promised to come over for dinner tonight!"

His muffled response was drowned out by the voice of Iris's newest co-worker, Sara. "Your boyfriend's cute," she remarked as she scooted next to Iris and bent to straighten one of the displays. "From the way he looks at you, he's obviously crazy about you. Have you guys been together long?"

"What?" she asked, taken by surprise. "Barry's not my boyfriend!"

Sara looked confused, but Tracy came to her rescue – at least, Iris assumed that was what she intended when she cut in, "It's true. She's dating her dad's partner, Eddie. She and Barry are 'just friends.'"

Until that moment, Iris would never have believed it possible for someone's voice to so clearly indicate sarcastic air quotes, without the aid of a supporting gesture. Before she could challenge her friend's tone, however, Sara retorted, "You're kidding! But…" her gaze shot from Iris to Tracy and back again before she seemed to think better of what she'd been about to say. Her mouth snap closed.

But Iris wasn't about to let it go. She turned towards Tracy. "What is that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

The two girls exchanged a look before they were interrupted by a small group of customers and Tracy had to help Sara ring up the sale while Iris worked on the order. At first, she waited with thinly-veiled impatience for the crowd to clear, but after a moment, doubt set in. It had never really occurred to her that Barry might look at her as anything more than his best friend, but what if she was wrong? The thought should have been ludicrous – laughable, really – so why was there a tiny shred of doubt that she wasn't able to entirely dismiss out of hand?

When the crowd had dissipated, Iris waited until Sara stepped away before approaching the counter. She tried to keep her tone light when she pressed, "What you guys said earlier…you were just joking, right?"

If she'd been hoping for her doubts to be allayed on that score, her companion's sigh indicated she was about to be disappointed. "Look, I wasn't going to say anything – mostly because I knew you wouldn't believe me. But if you want to know the truth? That guy is head over heels in love with you, and the only person who can't seem to see that is you." She paused and then added, "And maybe Eddie."

"But he's my friend –!" Iris began, before Tracy cut her off.

"_You_ look at him like he's just a friend. He looks at you like you're…you're…" She waved a hand as if she was trying to pull the word out of thin air.

"Everything he's ever wanted," Sara suggested from behind her.

Not willing to relinquish the fight – or contemplate whether there might be any truth in her companions' words – Iris tried one last time. "You guys are totally misreading things," she huffed. "Barry and I grew up together! We're practically brother and sister!"

"Uh huh," Sara snorted, though her tone was not unkind. "All I have to say is, I have three brothers and none of them look at me the way he looks at you." She pursed her lips and stared straight ahead with unfocused eyes, as though she was trying to even picture it, but finally came back to herself with a shudder. "Thank god."

Iris's gaze shot from Sara to Tracy, but whatever she was looking for in her friend's expression – like an indication that this was all some sort of elaborate prank – she didn't find it. "This is ridiculous. I'll be in back, if anyone needs me."

But even as she stormed away, she suspected their words would stay with her for a long time.

Later that night, Iris had forcibly put the earlier conversation out of her mind and was focused on the task at hand: dinner. She was concentrating on placing a cherry oh-so-perfectly on top of a mountain of whipped cream when she heard the front door slam. Shooting a quick glance at the clock on the oven, she had to bite back a smile. Barry was late again. Of course.

"Hey, Iris. Sorry I'm – what is that?" he asked as he jogged into the kitchen.

"Dinner!" she practically chirped as she stood back, admiring her masterpiece. It was glorious – a mountain of vanilla ice cream, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, nuts, and even a cherry on top.

"That is not dinner!" he countered on a laugh. She loved his laugh.

She grinned at him. "Sure it is! Dad's working late, so we're having dessert for dinner. It's tradition, remember?"

He rolled his eyes at her. "When we were twelve, maybe," he teased her good-naturedly. "I'm pretty sure you're missing a couple of the major food groups."

Iris snorted. "Not at all. There's dairy in the ice cream – and the whipped cream, for that matter. I'm pretty sure the peanuts have protein. Chocolate comes from a plant, so it totally counts as a grain…"

"And fruits and vegetables?" he prodded. "One cherry barely counts."

She pursed her lips thoughtfully. Just when it looked like he was going to declare victory, she was hit by a stroke of genius! "Aha!" Spinning on her heel, she rooted around in the cupboard until she found a bag of gummy bears that, to be honest, she couldn't remember buying. They were probably past their prime, but did candy ever really expire? "These are fruit flavored, so they have to have fruit in them. Satisfied?"

"No," he retorted with a grin, but he walked up to her and scanned the items scattered across the counter. "So where's mine?"

She feigned a look of disappointment. "Oh. About that. Um…you were late, so I decided that meant you wanted me to have all the rest of the ice cream." Lowering her voice, she leaned in close and murmured, "Sorry. We're fresh out." They actually weren't, as she'd picked up a pint of his favorite flavor on her way home, but teasing him was too much fun to resist.

His eyebrows arched, his lips pressed together, and he nodded. "I see," he said gravely. Then, moving a little fast for a guy who always seemed to be running a few minutes behind, he dove towards the counter and picked up a spoon. Her spoon. "Then I guess we'll have to share!"

"Uh-uh!" she cried, darting out of his reach. "This ice cream is _mine_, Allen!" It was also rapidly melting, but she hardly noticed as he made a swipe towards the bowl again. Dancing just out of his reach, she picked up the can of whipped cream and held it out to him. "Here. You can have this."

His eyes narrowed as he grabbed the can, then tilted back his head and tried to pour it directly into his mouth. Although the can spluttered, nothing actually came back and the look he shot her in response was full of wounded dignity. "Really?"

She hadn't meant to use the last of the whipped cream, actually, but the expression on his face was priceless and she couldn't bite back a giggle. This latest affront seemed to be the last straw, and he chased her around the kitchen, making increasingly desperate grabs for the ice cream bowl that Iris fought to keep just out of reach.

He had her pinned against the counter, one arm looped around her waist, the other reaching towards the bowl of what was rapidly becoming vanilla-and-chocolate-flavored soup when her dad walked into the room. She hadn't even heard the front door open, and she choked back a laugh, lowering her weight off of her tiptoes, where she'd been trying to evade Barry's reach.

Her dad took one look at the two of them, shook his head, and turned to leave. "As long as you clean up your mess, I'm not going to ask," he muttered as he walked into the other room. Then, almost as an afterthought, she heard him yell, "And that better not be dinner!"

Iris couldn't take it anymore. She howled with laughter – Barry's laugh echoing her own – until his arms were the only things keeping her on her feet as she found herself bending forward to catch her breath. The ice cream slopped over the side of the bowl and onto the ground, which she somehow found even more hilarious. It seemed to take several minutes before she could get a hold of herself, and she wiped a tear out of her eyes as she straightened in his arms.

She could feel his warmth seep into the back of her shirt. His laughter vibrated through her chest, and she leaned into him for a second before realizing what she was doing and turning in his arms.

They had probably been in this position a hundred times before, so she didn't know why this time, she realized how close his face was to hers. Close enough to kiss, if she was so inclined. And then, suddenly, her co-workers' words came back to her. _"He looks at you like you're everything he's ever wanted."_ If she didn't know better, she would swear he was looking at her like that right now.

"I bet you're a good kisser!" she blurted and then blinked, because where had _that_ thought come from? And why in the name of all things holy did she have to express it out loud?

Barry seemed to be wondering the same thing. She watched him swallow nervously a couple of times as his cheeks turned a dull red color. "Wh-what?" he stammered, dropping his arms. Iris stepped back, embarrassed.

"Sorry. I was just…thinking about something Sara, the new girl at work, said today. She thinks…" She almost told him the truth, but it turned out, she wasn't that brave. "She thinks you're really cute." It wasn't a lie, but it certainly wasn't the whole truth.

"And so you were wondering if I'm a good kisser?"

"It was a – um – girl-talk think," she responded lamely. He made a small sound of assent, his eyes darting around the room. The silence that fell between them was awkward and stretched out far too long – which was so different than the comfortable silences they normally shared that she didn't know what to do.

The moment stretched interminably. Iris cleared her throat and stepped back, busying herself by cleaning up the mess left behind by their adventure. She shot a quick look at Barry out of the corner of her eye and caught him shooting a glance her way. Caught, they both jumped, their gaze skittering away.

Had her coworkers been correct? Did Barry have feelings for her that went beyond mere friendship? Or were things strained between at the moment because their words were on her mind, making her question things she normally took for granted – and he was picking up on her awkwardness but was unaware of the cause?

"So," he blurted, then seemed uncertain how to continue.

Iris coughed to clear her throat for the second time. "Um…you know, maybe you were right about my dinner plans. Want to order a pizza?"

He relaxed a little, the edges of his mouth sliding into an easy smile, although she caught him shooting another quick glance her way. "Sure. The usual?"

She started to nod, then caught herself and clarified, "Except for anchovies! I don't care what Dad says, they taste like death and belong nowhere near a pizza!"

He held up his hands defensively. "I know! I know!" It was a discussion they'd had a hundred times before. But, then, she'd never really worried that he would order a pizza with anchovies, because he knew her so well – and he remembered little things like that about her.

Because they were friends, right? She'd always thought so, but now, after her conversation earlier that day…she just couldn't help but wonder.

"Here, let me help with that," he offered, reaching for the bowl, but she pulled it out of his reach.

"No, it's okay!" she said quickly. Frankly, she could use the moment alone to get her head screwed on straight – not that she could tell him that. "Why don't you go reassure my dad that we'll order, you know, actual food while I finish in here?"

"You sure?" he asked, but she pressed her palm against his chest and gave a little push.

His chest was warm against her palm. She remembered when he'd held it there, not long ago, so she could feel his heartbeat and prove he was alive. It had been fast, then. It was fast now.

She realized she was staring at his chest and jumped, scampering back a few steps for sanity's sake. Was she out of her mind? What was _wrong _with her?

Barry seemed to be wondering the same thing. "Iris, are you okay?"

Her head jerked up and down like an insane bobble-head doll. He was still staring at her, so she ventured, "Barry…we're friends, right?" She unconsciously stressed the word, needing him to reassure her that her co-workers had been incredibly wrong, the status quo was what she always assumed it to be, and she was taking a fruitless trip down a dark path of insanity by even questioning it. Maybe she should have added the word 'just' to that question, but then he'd wonder why she was asking, and if she was right and her co-workers were wrong, she'd have to die of mortification on the spot.

Silence stretched between them for one heartbeat. Two. Three. Then, "Yeah, Iris. Of course we're friends. Why –?"

"I'm just being silly," she cut him off, turning her back on him. "Anyway, go! I'm hungry and the pizza isn't going to order itself!"

She could feel him behind her, even though he stood several feet away. She felt his gaze on her back for a long moment. Then she felt a slight breeze lift the hair of the back of her neck, but before she could question its origin, he murmured, "Okay," and walked into the living room.

"Iris, get a hold of yourself!" she hissed, tossing the empty whipped cream container into the trash. She needed to stop thinking of what the girls had said earlier that day and let things between her and Barry go back to the way they had been that morning, before she started over-analyzing every nuance of their interaction together.

Like whether three heartbeats had been at least one too many for him to answer her question.


	2. Cross Purposes

**A/N: **Thanks to everyone for your feedback! It inspired me to write a second part, although I struggled with this a bit. This takes place before the Flash/Arrow crossover (episode 8 of season 1). As always, thanks for reading/reviewing and I hope you enjoy!

**Cross Purposes**

It was the little things about her that enchanted him.

The way her eyes sparked when she laughed. The tiny crease she got in her brow when she was totally focused on something. The little smile that lifted at the corners of her mouth when she was bemused by one of his nerdy tangents. When she was curious, she tilted her head to the side, just a little bit – and almost always to the left.

He knew all the little things about her, like her favorite band, or the snacks she craved in the middle of a long, sleepless night. She probably never watched a sappy romantic movie without tearing up, but she'd always try to hide it. He could almost always pick the perfect present for her, and he could usually find just the right thing to make her laugh when she was feeling a little blue.

He just didn't know how to get her to see him the way he saw her.

Barry heaved a heavy sigh as he walked through the front door to Jitters. His head bowed, feeling the weight of his unrequited feelings, he stepped across the threshold to the coffee house. Then he saw her, standing at the counter. She lifted her gaze off the customer in front of her and caught his eye, her mouth widening into a smile that wrapped itself around his heart and twisted. Barry couldn't even begin to suppress the goofy smile he shot her in response – always a little too wide, a little more eager than he wished, almost betraying him.

He saw her lips move, forming his name. Then, her newest co-worker – he thought her name was Sara, but he wasn't sure – glanced at her with a grin and said something he couldn't make out. Whatever it was, Iris's smile fell in response, and she jerked her gaze from his with a firm shake of her head. Her moves uncharacteristically clumsy, she reached for a coffee lid and fumbled, knocking into the entire stack, scattering them across the counter. She jumped at the sound of clattering plastic and rushed to clean up her mess, but although he tried to catch her eye to give her a commiserating smile, her gaze stayed firmly averted.

Barry slid into a seat and waited as the last few customers were served and meandered out of the coffee house. Although he expected Iris to approach him once the coast was clear, she lingered at the counter and spoke softly to her co-worker. He wished he could hear their conversation, but their voices were too low and he didn't want to eavesdrop.

After murmuring between themselves for a few minutes, Sara took off her apron and tossed it over her arm. Then she grabbed her purse from under the counter and slung it over her shoulder. "Suit yourself," he heard her say as she skirted the counter and headed for the door. "Just because you want to pretend to be blind doesn't mean I'm going to enable you! Have a good night!"

"Good night, Sara," Iris retorted, putting extra emphasis on the second word. Her tone was as final as a slamming door, but the perky blonde's smile didn't slip so much as a millimeter.

As she swept by his chair, Sara chirped in a voice pitched to carry across the room, "Barry! You know, I thought I might see you here. But I know you're not here to see me, so I'll leave you guys alone. Bye, you two!" She darted out the door well before he had a chance to figure out her peculiar behavior.

Jumping to his feet, he grabbed some dirty cups off a nearby table and took them to the counter. "What was that about?" he asked casually as he handed them over.

The glasses clattered noisily against each other as Iris pulled them away quicker than necessary. "Uh – n-nothing," she stammered, not meeting his eyes. "She just thinks she's being clever."

He waited for her to continue, but he shrugged when no further explanation was forthcoming. "Okay," he said softly as he turned to pick up a few more dirty mugs, and time passed quickly as they cleaned up for the night. Barry couldn't help but watch her out of the corner of his eye as they worked in silence. She was as graceful as a dancer, moving to a song that only she could hear – save for those moments when she glanced over at him and caught him looking her way, at least. Then she seemed a little frazzled and clumsy. Was she starting to suspect his feelings for her?

The thought made him a little skittish, so by the time the cups had all been put in the dishwasher, the bakery items prepped for the next morning, and Iris was wiping down the machines, it was something of a miracle neither of them had broken anything. Barry braced his elbows on the counter and leaned forward. He took a deep breath and tried to sound casual – fighting back his paranoia – and asked, "Hey, did you see that they're showing _Mothra vs. Godzilla_ downtown this weekend? You want to go?"

Her hand paused mid-task, and she shot a quick glance his way, for once not looking away immediately after. She stared for a long minute, the corners of her lips flirting with a tiny ghost of a smile. The sharp contrast in this smile from the rest of the night was enough to make a man self-conscious, and he ran a nervous hand through his hair, wondering if it was sticking up in the back or something.

She didn't seem to notice his discomfort. Her lips widened into that warm grin that drew him like a moth to a flame, and for a moment, things were back to normal between them. "You realize that's really more your thing, right?" she teased.

"You said you love Godzilla!" he retorted, feigning wounded dignity.

She snorted and rolled her eyes at him. "I said I love that you love Godzilla," she replied. "And I love…" Her sentence cut off abruptly as she sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes locked on his face. She jerked, and her hand came down heavily on the counter, smacking against the side of a glass carafe with enough force to almost send it on a trip after the rag she'd been holding, which had fallen to the floor. "Uh…I l-love…that about you," she finished, bending to pick it up. Her voice was muffled, her face hidden by the edge of the counter as she tossed the dirty cloth into the laundry. When she straightened, she grabbed a fresh rag off the pile and kept her face averted as she vigorously wiped down the rest of the machines.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he couldn't read her mood. Normally, her disposition was so familiar to him as to be almost second nature. He couldn't remember the last time he hadn't been able to read her mind, to know her thoughts by the expression on her face.

"So –" he began, drawing out the word cautiously, unsure how to continue. His brain was working overtime. Did she realize he loved her and didn't want to have to address it, so she was trying to avoid the subject? Had something in his expression given him away?

Or was he just so scared of her finding out his feelings and not reciprocating them that he was totally blowing things out of proportion? Maybe her behavior was totally normal and her clumsiness was due to understandable exhaustion after a long shift. Maybe he was the one who was being weird, and she was just picking up on his weirdness without understanding the reason for it, and that was causing all this tension between them.

Barry took a step back from the counter, hoping distance would provide him the emotional cover he apparently so desperately needed right now. He opened his mouth to talk, but a strangled cough came out, instead. Feeling his cheeks grow hot, he shoved his hands in his pockets and, with every fiber of his being, focused on projecting an air of nonchalance, "So, uh, do you – I mean, we don't have to, if you don't want, but if you do…You know, it's up to you. I'm not even sure I'm really all that interested, to be honest. I mean, unless you are! Because if you are, then that would be – uh – that is…Do you want to go?"

Well. If he'd been shooting for "nonchalant," he figured he'd missed the mark and landed somewhere around "neurotic" instead.

She made a noncommittal noise. "Can I get back to you on that? I'll have to check my schedule."

Did she really have to check her schedule, or was she just put off by his almost aggressively intense "nonchalance," he had to wonder. "Uh – sure," he finally managed. Then he lapsed into silence, Barry's paranoia growing as Iris washed the same coffee pot for the third time.

He couldn't bear not knowing what was going on with her – whether she'd picked up on his feelings for her and was trying to avoid the subject, or whether she was just put off by his complete lack of anything approaching "chill" tonight. "Iris, is everything okay? You seem…" he paused, uncertain how to continue. He felt like he was surrounded by conversational land-mines but wasn't even sure which ones to watch out for. Finally latching onto a word that seemed more or less acceptable, he finished, "Distracted."

For a long moment, he thought she would ignore him or shrug off his question as she scrubbed at an invisible spot on the counter like she had a personal vendetta. Just when he was about to give up, assume the worst, and bolt for the door, she finally tossed the rag aside and sighed. "You're right," she conceded heavily.

Like a deer caught in headlights, Barry froze, unable to even suck air into his lungs, wondering if his every dream was about to come true or if his heart would be completely and irrevocably shattered in the next ten seconds.

His only saving grace at that moment was that her eyes were focused intently on a spot on his chest, and so he hoped that she didn't notice the expression of exulted hope – tinged with terror – on his face. "The fact is that I have been a little distracted lately. It's stupid, really. Just something Sara and Tracy said made me start to think about – uh –" her voice trailed off, and she finished lamely, "things."

"Things?" he prompted. His knees gave out, and he sank heavily into a chair.

After a brief pause, she moved around the counter and joined him. "The thing is," she began, sounding resigned as she sank into her seat, "I've been thinking lately about…relationships." Her words were halting, uncertain, like she wasn't sure how to continue – or even if she wanted to do so. "And I've realized…I'm not a very good girlfriend."

"Who told you that?" Barry cried, his fear evaporating instantly to be replaced with rage, as he jumped to his feet. "Did Eddie tell you that? Because any guy in this world would be lucky to have you for a girlfriend, and if Eddie told you differently, I'll –"

"No!" she yelped, reaching for his hand and stopping him from finding out what a supersonic punch did to a non-meta-human's head. She gave it a reassuring squeeze and waited for him to resume his seat before she continued. "Eddie didn't say anything, I promise. This is me. The thing is, Eddie's a great guy. Really. He's sweet and thoughtful and handsome and…and he's crazy about me. He makes me happy, and I shouldn't…"

He stared at her with searching eyes, until he was reasonably reassured that she was telling the truth. Then his rage slunk away and the combination of hope and fear raced back to the surface, causing his heart to alternatively soar and sink into his stomach. The conflicting extreme emotions made him slightly nauseated and caused a tight feeling in his chest that made it hard to breathe. "You shouldn't –?"

She fell silent, staring at his face as though trying to read something there. With a frown, she gave her head a swift shake and sat back, letting his hand fall to his side. "I should be satisfied with that, but lately I've been thinking about…someone else. I mean, nothing definitive. Just…wondering, I guess. Like 'what if?' – something like that."

Again, hope clashed with brutal reality. If this kept up, he was afraid he might have a heart attack. Or at the very least vomit. Because it was right at that moment that he realized who she was talking about – and it was him, except that it wasn't quite the same and he couldn't pretend to himself that it was. Calling himself fifteen different kinds of idiot for even thinking for a moment she might have discovered his feelings for her (and entertaining the foolish hope she might return them), he sighed. "The Flash?" he ventured with a grimace.

She paused, her lips parted slightly as she stared into his eyes for a heartbeat or two. Then, with a grimace, she looked away and prevaricated, "Well, you have to admit, he is pretty amazing." Slipping her lower lip between her teeth, she nibbled on it for a moment before continuing. "I know you probably don't see him like this, but…he's incredible, really. Smart and funny. Charming. He's got the best heart of just about anyone I've ever known." Barry was almost taken aback by her description. How could she see the Flash so clearly after only a few brief meetings but not see Barry himself when he was standing right in front of her? And how ridiculous was it that he was temporarily overcome with intense jealousy of himself?

Heedless of his inner turmoil, she continued, "But the thing is…we're friends, really. I-I mean, I think we are. And I have no idea real reason to believe he sees me the way I see him, so…this is probably just a harmless crush, and it'll pass soon enough. I just let them get into my head. You know how bad I am with this stuff; maybe this is all just my attempt to self-sabotage what could be a really incredible relationship." She paused and took a deep breath, then gave a firm nod of her head. "Yeah, I'm sure that's what this is. Of course it is! I'm just being an idiot. Right?"

He hated himself in that moment, because he wanted to tell her that it absolutely wasn't a crush and she should definitely act on her feelings. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge that she didn't look at Barry the way she looked at the Flash, so she would probably be appalled if he confessed the truth now. He also knew he couldn't use the mask to pursue a romantic relationship with her. She deserved better than that kind of deception. And when she did find out about his duplicity – which would be inevitable, under those circumstances – there would be no way she wouldn't feel like his actions weren't the worst kind of betrayal. Like he'd been purposefully duping her, exploiting her emotions, playing her for a fool.

He couldn't do that to her. No matter how very much he wanted to tell her how he felt, he could never hurt her like that.

As the devil on one shoulder waged war with the angel on the other, he struggled for the right words to say, rubbing his hands over his forehead and through his hair as he shifted awkwardly in his seat. By the time he dropped his hands into his lap and sagged into his chair, even he wasn't sure which one had won the battle.

"I think…if you think it's just a crush, then you may be right. Give it a little more time and see what happens," he suggested with a forced and tremulous smile. He was tempted to tell her she should break things off with Eddie while she sorted out her feelings, but he didn't. He couldn't be sure he wanted to tell her that for her benefit or for his.

Instead, he added, "You know, if he does have feelings for you, he'll probably let you know, if you pay close enough attention." Or the slightest of attention, really, since she seemed to be the only person in the entirety of Central City who didn't know he was desperately in love with her. He sometimes felt like he couldn't make it more obvious that he adored her with every fiber of his being if he…well, if he got up the courage to tell her. Which he never had, and, at this rate, it didn't seem like he ever would. So, admittedly, he probably carried the brunt of blame for his predicament.

A small crease knit her brow as she frowned and mulled over his words. "Yeah…I guess," she finally admitted, though she sounded uncertain.

Silence fell between them, and Barry tried not to fidget – or waver in his resolve not to tell her to pursue a relationship with the Flash. After a minute or two, a thought struck, and he took the opportunity to give in to a little temptation. Remembering something she had said earlier, he asked, "Out of curiosity, what did Sara and Tracy say?"

Iris froze and shot him a quick look out of the corner of her eye. "Wh-what do you mean?" she stammered.

Thrown a little by her reaction, he explained gently, "Well, you said something they said made you start thinking about things. I was just wondering what it was."

"Oh," she breathed. Her lips tightened into a scowl. Finally, she admitted, "We were talking about unrequited crushes. If we've ever had any, if we know anybody who's had any, that kind of thing." She paused and then asked lightly, "Have you?"

"M-me?" he stammered, lowering his gaze so she couldn't read the truth written in the lines on his face. "No, I wouldn't say I've had a crush, really." It was more like a bone-deep, all-consuming love that occupied his every day, kept him awake at night, and came more naturally to him than breathing. Which wasn't really the same as a crush, so he figured he wasn't lying.

Trying to deflect her attention, he returned, "And have you? I mean, before the Flash?" He wasn't too worried the answer would break his heart, since he didn't think she ever had. As far as he knew, Iris had never had a serious crush on anyone – though like most people who didn't already know they'd found the love of their lives before they'd even hit the age of puberty, she'd dabbled in puppy love a time or two in school. Anyway, even if she'd ever had a crush, he doubted it had ever been unrequited. He couldn't imagine anyone ever not falling head over heels in love with her.

"Well, sure," she admitted lightly with a shrug. "Hasn't everyone? For about five minutes in twelfth grade, I had the biggest crush possible on Chris Wilcox. And then he opened his mouth and I realized he was actually an ass." He remembered Chris and 'ass' was putting it lightly. "In eighth grade, it was that guy…god, I don't even remember his name, now. He was tall, with that really curly blonde hair and the dimples? Lucas something, I think? He moved halfway through the semester, so that crush was short-lived." Not short enough, to Barry's recollection. The guy in question had been named Luke Evans, actually, though he didn't bother to correct her. Iris may have forgotten, but Barry never would – mostly because he'd been intensely jealous of the other boy for the entire time he'd been the object of her affection.

"And, of course, for a while after we first met, I had a crush on you," she finished in a voice that was deceptively casual, given that her admission hit him with the force of a meteor to the chest.

Until that exact moment, Barry would have thought it was impossible to choke to death on air. It was a very near miss, actually. "M-me?" he finally managed in a strangled voice. "You had a crush on me?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Well, yeah!" she admitted, and if he didn't know better, he could swear she almost sounded a little…disappointed. "Don't get scared, thinking I've been carrying a torch all this time! It's not a big deal. It was pretty clear that it wasn't going to be reciprocated, so I realized we would be amazing friends and got over it. I mean, we were in elementary school! You were barely past thinking I had cooties!"

Barry might have to reconsider that heart attack, because as it was, the irony of his situation was going to kill him. It was hard to believe that he had probably started falling in love with Iris not long after she decided there was no point in having a crush on him.

For a guy who would one day be the fastest man alive, it seemed he was cursed to forever just miss his chance at loving her.

At that moment, she glanced over at him, and something on his face must have caused her to have genuine alarm, because she lunged forward and grabbed his hand again. "Barry, are you okay? If I'd realized you would be this horrified, I wouldn't have told you!"

He let out a choked laugh. Great. Now she thought he was revolted at the mere thought that she'd once considered, for probably like five minutes, having a crush on him. And he thought his current predicament couldn't get any worse. "N-no, I'm not…I'm just surprised!" he finally managed. When all this was over, he was going to have to go somewhere and scream for a while.

Her eyes narrowing, she made a soft humming noise and relaxed back into her chair. "You know, given the reaction you just had, it's probably a good thing I haven't told…uh…_the Flash_ how I feel," she mused, putting a strange emphasis on the man in question's name. "It just about caused you to have a heart attack." Oh, how he wished that were true. Then his torment – and this excruciating conversation – would be over. "It would probably cause him to run screaming to another state!"

"I'm sure that's not true –" he blurted, but she waved her hand, dismissing his interjection.

"No, it's okay. The truth is…well, you know as well as I do that I'm not very good with relationships. I have a way of messing them up, really. I don't know how Eddie stuck it out, when I was acting like he was my dirty little secret."

Right now was probably the worst time for Barry to try to convince her that she was worth waiting for, so he held his tongue in abject misery. With a glance at the time, Iris groaned and rose to her feet. "It's late; I should get home. And you're probably right. It's not worth sabotaging the best relationship I've ever been in for some silly crush."

He stood, and Iris wrapped her arms around him for a tight hug. Then she pulled away, just far enough to lean back and look him in the eye. For a moment, their faces were so close that he could feel her breath fan against his mouth, but when she leaned in, it was only to press her lips against his cheek in a soft kiss.

"What was that for?" he asked, his breath catching in his throat.

"Being a good friend," she murmured, and although a smile lifted the corners of her mouth, it didn't quite reach her eyes. "And reminding me that sometimes, what you have is more important than some fantasy of what could be."

"Oh. Any time," he offered, forcing a smile of his own. Dejected, he turned and walked to the door. He didn't look over his should at her as he left. If he had, he would have realized she stood in the doorway and watched him with sad eyes until he was out of sight.


End file.
